


Misprint

by inkstainedcas



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drabble, First Meetings, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:49:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedcas/pseuds/inkstainedcas
Summary: Based on a prompt I saw for a soulmate AU in which soulmates share fingerprints. Prompt from please-dont-die-again on tumblr.John's been arrested. Really, properly arrested. And he doesn't have the faintest clue as to why.





	

John’s been _arrested_.

 

Really, properly arrested.

 

He doesn’t have the faintest clue why, honestly. He keeps telling them that, but they don’t seem to want to listen to a word he has to say. They just popped up while he was at work-- he was with a patient, for God’s sakes-- with his rights rolling casually off their tongues throughout the brief and sudden process.

 

 _You do not have to say anything_ , they’d told him, locking handcuffs around his wrists.

 

_...but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court._

 

He’s escorted out of the building, still dumbstruck and without any idea where he was going, or why.

 

_Anything you do say may be given in evidence._

 

Evidence. If only he had the faintest idea what they were collecting evidence for. The door of the police car slams as he sits in the backseat, squirming uncomfortably as he tries to stop the cuffs from digging into his wrists too harshly as he sits.

  
The man hasn’t even littered since he was sixteen, for God’s sakes. He’s an army vet, a doctor, and a surprisingly mild man, most times, so for him to be arrested was beyond comprehension. Surely it’s a misunderstanding, but that doesn’t stop him worrying about what the gossip at the office might be. This could hurt him professionally, if they managed to bring him to trial for whatever it was they were convinced he did. Guilty or not.

 

The ride is silent, as the man and his partner in the front seat say nothing to John as they drive. They stop in front of Scotland Yard and remove him from the car. His hands are steady in the face of the nerve-wracking situation, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. All of his thoughts are laser-focused on his every move, on every word they say to him that might give him a clue. He’s almost entirely sure they’re supposed to tell him _why_ he’s being arrested, but that doesn’t change the fact that they haven’t.

 

WIthin minutes, he finds himself in an interrogation room. It’s more brightly lit than it is on the telly, almost distractingly so. It’s almost like he’s in an empty hospital room, save for the metal table and the two chairs in the center.

 

The first man to enter is a silver-haired detective who introduces himself as DI Lestrade. He’s a bit nicer than the men from before, and he seems appalled by the fact that John doesn’t know why he’s there, but he still seems quite certain that John has committed a crime.

 

That’s when he finds out why he’s been arrested, and it does nothing to calm his nerves.

 

“There’s been a triple homicide on the west end,” the detective explains, though he looks at John like he must know that already. In truth, John had heard something about it on the news, but he knew nothing more than that. “A family. Hell, the family dog, as well. A nearly perfect crime scene, almost nothing that could be considered evidence. Until we found this.”  
  
He opens up a folder and slides a paper over toward John. John’s hands are in front of him now, though they’re connected to the table with new cuffs and thin chains. It does give him enough movement to take the paper and look it over, his eyebrows furrowed. It’s a lifted fingerprint, with the name _John Hamish Watson_ printed below it, along with his personal and work addresses. He frowns, looking up at the detective after he reads the final descriptor in the short biography of himself. _No known Soulmate._

 

“You’re basing this-- all this, on a fingerprint?” he asks, in disbelief. It’s not that he thinks he’s one of those people with a supposed soulmate, and he can’t imagine that his soulmate would be a murderer, but it’s hardly concrete enough to convict him for.

 

“I have it on good faith that you match the description given to us by a...specialist,” the detective replies, crossing his arms over his chest as he levels his gaze at John. “Either a short man or an average woman, but statistically more likely to be a man. Someone with a high level of medical knowledge or otherwise some surgical training, and--”

 

He doesn’t get to finish, as a man with dark hair and a rather nasally voice comes bursting in. Based on the DI’s expression, he’s not too pleased about it.

 

“Yes, Anderson, what is it? If you didn’t notice, I’m busy,” he sighs, turning his head to face the other.

 

“We’ve found another match,” he says, dropping another file before Lestrade.

 

Lestrade frowns, and John’s breath hitches a bit. Another match for the fingerprint? But that would mean…

 

“Who is it?” Lestrade inquires, even as he opens the file. He groans at whatever he sees and drops it on the table. “Damn it.”  
  
“What? No, don’t you see? It means he must have--”

 

“Sherlock Holmes didn’t commit any murders, Anderson. He was at the scene this morning, and the idiot must have got caught up in his own excitement and touched something without his gloves. Bastard.” The man stands, giving John a look. “You wait here. I can still hold you as a suspect,” he insists, though he no longer seems confident that John is a psychotic killer pretending to be a well-mannered doctor.

 

John waits in silence for a few minutes, still not sure what all of this meant for him. Hopefully, at the very least, it means he won’t be put on trial for a triple murder.

 

The man that enters with Lestrade is smug, apparently still thinking he’s caught a killer. “Mm, yes, he would fit the description,” he’s saying, looking John over with a brief nod. “You said he’s a medical man, as well? A bit shorter than expected, actually, but--”

 

“This,” Lestrade says firmly, cutting the other man off. By his expression, he’s not used to being interrupted when he’s talking about such subjects. “Is John Watson. And I don’t really think it was his fingerprint they lifted when they went back to the scene, Sherlock.” He grabs the file and pushes it into Sherlock’s hands, the paper in question on top. “It’s yours.”

 

The man, Sherlock, looks disappointed and mildly annoyed. “Well, damn.”

 

“Damn is right,” Lestrade huffs, beginning to cross over to John and free his wrists. “Even if he _did_ do it, which I now find difficult to believe, we’d need more evidence to hold him.” He glances to John, his expression having changed from the strict and quite professional look from earlier to one that was quite apologetic. John nods his understanding, though his eyes keep flickering to the tall man that Lestrade had entered the room with.

 

“I’ll...leave you two to it,” he mumbles, ducking out of the room. The door remains open, seeing as John’s free to go, but the doctor doesn’t make any move to leave.

 

Sherlock, presumably the ‘specialist’ Lestrade had mentioned, says nothing, so John does. He clears his throat and tries to figure out how to start the conversation. “You realize…”

 

“I realize that this means we are inherently ‘meant’ to be together, yes,” Sherlock says, in a way that suggests he’s never bought much into the idea. “Personally, I find it to be nonsense.”

 

“As do I,” John replies, though his expression is thoughtful. He meets Sherlock’s gaze, and there’s definitely something there. It’s piercing, and intelligent, but most of all it stirs something deep inside of John and spreads an unfamiliar warmth through him. It’s bizarre and comforting all at once.

 

“Dinner?” Sherlock asks bluntly, as if they haven’t both said they don’t believe in the very basis of their meeting.

  
“Oh, God, yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me or support me at inkstainedcas.tumblr.com!  
> This is a one-shot for now but with enough demand I could conceivably plan out more chapters. Let me know what you think!  
> Kudos always appreciated! ♥ Keeps me writing


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